


Blue-Grey and Faded With Time

by cathcer1984



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: The shoes were always there, another reminder of a child unable to take a breath, of a parent unable to provide, of himself, lonely.





	Blue-Grey and Faded With Time

**Author's Note:**

> When I claimed this prompt I knew that this could go one of two ways, sad- heartbreakingly so, or not.  
> Thank you for such an open prompt and I hope you enjoy what I did with it, and that it’s nothing like you expected! I really want to surprise you, and I tried to go in a direction that didn’t seem obvious and I really hope I succeeded. But most of all, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this.  
> The title and summary both come from the fic.
> 
> Written for HarryDracoMpreg fest prompt: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” - Ernest Hemingway

Harry’s hand fingered at the worn sign. The edges were soft and thin; the words could hardly be read, but they made Harry’s heart ache.

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.  
Never even been touched by the looks of them, Harry thought, as he stroked his finger over the top of the sign. The shoes were always there, another reminder of a child unable to take a breath, of a parent unable to provide, of himself, lonely and -

He cut off that thought and turned away from the woollen booties, blue-grey and faded with time but still beautiful and lonely.  
“Harry? You ready?”

With a smile, he took his husband’s hand and let Draco lead them from the shop. Harry couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the shoes, wanting more than anything to be able to buy them and fill them with tiny feet.

***  
Harry found himself standing outside the shop. Again. He pressed his nose to the glass, trying to t see inside; he needed to know if they were still there. Shaking his head at his foolishness, Harry marched to the door and entered.

The shop was just as gloomy as the last time he’d been in it and Harry waited for his eyes to adjust before moving.

Stopping in the same place, Harry once again, started to finger the sign as he stared at the words. For sale: baby shoes, never worn had played over and over in his head since he’d first seen them. The shoes were neglected and forgotten in a gloomy old shop in Diagon Alley, but Harry was drawn to them.

And he kept coming back. He wanted the shoes and rested a hand on his flat stomach; he wanted a baby to fill the shoes.

***  
“Daddy!”

Harry turned and smiled as he watched Draco and their son, James, head towards him through the thin crowd. He picked up James and pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek, ignoring the way Draco’s eyes lingered on him.

“Are we going to look at the shoes today, Daddy?”

“Yes, we are.” Harry grinned and rubbed his nose against James’ before putting the boy down and taking his hand. Together they walked into the shop, Draco following behind, and Harry picked James up, resting him on his hip as they looked at the shoes. Still blue-grey with dust, still with the same worn sign.

“What’s it say, Daddy?”

“It says, ‘For sale: baby shoes, never worn’.”

“Why haven’t they been worn?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Harry felt Draco come up behind him and press close, his hand settling in the small of Harry’s back.

“They’re tiny.”

“They are.”

***

The tears in his eyes blurred the words, but it didn’t matter. He knew what they said. For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Harry bit his lip to keep from sobbing. It was his fault that Draco had left. It was his fault that Draco had taken James with him. It was all his fault. Everything. Harry’s job was dangerous. Draco knew that when he married him; Aurors didn’t have easy lives.

Draco had left in the middle of the night. Harry had come home from St Mungo’s to find their house empty. It was all his fault; he got hit and he got hurt and he almost died. Draco had told him that he’d gone too far, but Harry had brushed him off.

He had sent him away, hoping that his husband would be calm by the time he got home. Harry hadn’t expected him to be gone.

***

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Harry said.

Draco looked terrible. He had dark bags under his eyes and he was tired. “You asked, Harry. Of course, I came. I just don’t know why we’re here, of all places.”

Shrugging, Harry said, “I thought neutral ground would be good. You won’t come back home and I don’t where you’re living now.” Harry’s voice cracked and Draco’s nose flared, like it always did when he was upset.

“What did you want to talk about then?”

Harry looked around the shop, his eyes resting on the booties and the sign, For sale: baby shoes, never worn. “I miss you and James,” he said.

Draco swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, but he said nothing. Harry took a step forwards and whispered, “I quit my job. I don’t want to lose you or James. I want you to come home.”

***

It was Hermione’s birthday and they were due at the Burrow; however, they’d not got her a gift. Harry had left Draco and James shopping while he went to his favourite corner, just to see.

They were still there, the same sign For sale: baby shoes, never worn propped up before the blue-grey booties.

“Papa?” James looked up at Draco and Harry turned away. They’d been living together for the past year, but James kept his distance from Harry, afraid that Harry would leave or worse, die.

It broke Harry’s heart that his son didn’t like being alone with him. Draco often said, “He’s only five. Give him time.”

Time. Harry had plenty of that now. He’d left the Aurors and started to work with charities.

He and Draco had kept separate bedrooms, at Draco’s insistence, because he wasn’t sure how serious Harry was about his danger-free life.

 

***

The room span and Harry plopped down onto the floor. He stared up at the empty space on the shelf where the booties had been, where the worn sign had stood. A pain in his abdomen made him start and he rubbed at his pregnant belly, soothing the baby inside.

Eventually, he struggled to his feet and wrapped the scarf tighter around his neck before leaving. Someone had brought his blue-grey baby shoes.

Closing his eyes against the tears, Harry silently cursed his hormones before he made his way home.

Stepping out of the floo, Harry smiled sadly at his husband before turning to look at the mirror.

Harry froze. There on their mantle were the booties and the sign, For sale: baby shoes, never worn. Draco came up behind him and kissed his neck.  
“Love you,” Harry whispered, as he traced the words with a finger.

***

“Are they okay?”

“Course they are, Cissy,” James whispered, to his sister.

“You don’t think they’re going to break up do you?” James pulled his sister into his side.

“No.”

Cissy buried her head in her older brother’s chest. “This is horrible. Why do they have to fight?”

James watched his Dad and his Papa through the gap. Their faces were red and they were trying not to be heard. He stroked a hand down Cissy’s dark hair and whispered in her ear. “Look.”

Cissy looked. Dad was playing with the booties’ sign again. Mentally, James recited the words For sale: baby shoes, never worn as his dad’s finger traced over each one.

Papa leaned in a kissed Dad. James made a retching sound and looked away. But not before he’d seen where Papa had put his hand. “Looks like you’re going to be a big sister.”

***

Dad’s third pregnancy was hard. He was on bed rest for the last three months and drove everybody crazy with his attempts at moving. James could see that Papa was trying to be supportive and firm, but Dad didn’t want to listen.

It took for Cissy to start crying that she was scared she’d lose her Daddy and her little brother or sister for Dad to start behaving. At the nine month mark, they all made their way to St Mungo’s, and at seven minutes past seven in the morning of October ninth Harry Potter-Malfoy and Draco Potter-Malfoy had their third child.

Hamish Potter-Malfoy was an ugly baby, James thought, all red and wrinkled, as he slipped on the blue-grey booties and handed the baby back.

“For sale: baby shoes, never worn,” Papa whispered into Dad’s hair. “They’re not empty anymore, Harry.”

“Time to start anew, then.”


End file.
